You Shoot, I'll Reload
by Iaveina
Summary: Michael Jones barely knew anything about Gavin Free, just that he was the new kid at school. He hadn't made any effort to get to know him, whether it be through laziness, unwillingness or maybe it was because of the wheelchair.


**You Shoot, I'll Reload**

**Summary: ****Michael Jones barely knew anything about Gavin Free, just that he was the new kid at school. He hadn't made any effort to get to know him, whether it be through laziness, unwillingness or maybe it was because of the wheelchair.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the written words on this page!**

***slowly moves her RT fanfiction from tumblr to ***

**I have well and truly been eaten by the RT fandom! And have managed to write more in the past 6 months than I have in the past 6 years put together….**

**At the moment the plan is only to transfer over a couple of fics, if you want to read more of them I can be found on tumblr under the name 'iaveinabox' and on AO3 under the name 'iaveina'.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

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Michael hated birthday parties.

He also hated being at an age where the parents of the kids he went to school with automatically assumed that their kid was friends with everyone in their class. So, most weekends, he found himself being forced into nice clothes - scratching uncomfortably against his skin and smelling faintly of lavender washing detergent - with his mom pulling a comb through his hair before enduring an awkward car ride to a party he didn't want to be at.

Today, however, was different for two reasons. One, he'd been best friend's with the birthday boy since preschool and two, Ray's parents had exercised a level of genius unseen in the other parents of his peers and held the party _at an arcade_.

"This is pretty cool," Michael said begrudgingly, taking a sip of his soda and shifting on the balls of his feet. He winced at the sound his sneakers made on the sticky floor and scowled, shuffling off the tacky linoleum that lay underneath the paint-chipped tables by the arcade's food counter and onto the brightly coloured carpet that Michael guessed had been there since the 60s. Ray, newly 12-years-old and counting out a pile of quarters on the tabletop, looked up at him with an exasperated look on his face.

"I just wanted to have a couple of friends over to play video games but my mom made me come here," he sighed, sweeping the coins off the table and into the palm of his hand. Around them at least a dozen pre-teens stood around chatting happily, none of them - Michael was annoyed to notice - were dressed as formally as him and he unbuttoned the top button of the shirt he was wearing, rolling up the sleeves afterwards with a huff. Ray placed the coins into the pocket of his shorts and looked around nervously at some of the group. "I don't even _speak_ to half of these people at school."

"Hey, it could be worse man. Your mom could've signed you up for a soccer party."

Mrs Narvaez meant well, and Michael could only assume that she'd finally realised that Ray would never be the next big soccer star - especially if her over-the-top enthusiasm for anything game-related now was anything to go by. Ray's patience in explaining things to her was admirable, and Michael, whose patience was nonexistent, could only hope that his own mom didn't try to do the same thing.

"Don't even joke about that," Ray shook his head violently before looking at Michael with wide eyes. "If Dad hadn't of talked to her then that's where we'd be now."

Michael snorted, throwing his empty soda can into a nearby bin. "Good ol' Papa Narvaez."

Said Papa Narvaez was stood by what was once a large pepperoni pizza and was now a large space full of crumbs, greasy stains and the odd smattering of melted cheese. He had a similar look of bemusement on his face that Michael had caught on Ray's face multiple times throughout the party and he instantly knew where his best friend's reluctance to be around large groups of people came from.

"C'mon, I think I saw that Time Crisis game when we came in here," Michael said, taking a step towards where he remembered the game to be. Ray's eyes lit up and he fell into step with him. "Let's go and pla-"

"Ray, honey."

Michael winced, almost at the same time Ray jumped slightly, and in unison the two boys turned to face Mrs Narvaez. "Yes Mom?"

Mrs Narvaez gave a motherly smile and reached out to ruffle Ray's hair. The younger boy ducked out with a groan. "If you're going to go off and play can you please take Gavin with you, he's a bit lonely at the moment."

The two boys' eyes immediately focused on Gavin, sat by himself at a table near where the parents who'd stayed to help supervise were congregated. The boy, new to their school having moved to the United States from England three months before, was an enigma; he was quiet, mainly keeping to himself, but Michael knew he was smart - not once had his teachers complained about him and when he was called on to answer a question in class he always piped up an answer with that silly accent of his. Michael hadn't made any effort to get to know him, whether it be through laziness, unwillingness or maybe it was because of the cha-

"Moooooom, do we have to?"

"Ray Narvaez Jr, you will go and invite Gavin to join you or so help me…" She trailed off, pointing a finger at Ray. Ray sighed and immediately walked over to Gavin, Michael at his heels.

"Hey Gavin," Ray started, digging his hands into his pockets. Gavin, absentmindedly tracing his finger across the brightly coloured children's placemat on the table - charting its way through a map whose path was already highlighted in crayon, jumped and looked up with wide hazel eyes. "Me and Michael were gonna go and play a couple of games, d'you wanna join us?"

Gavin's eyes flickered from Ray's face to look at Michael and Michael could instantly see him retreat back into his shell. "I'm alright here…" He replied quietly.

"Sweetie, go with Ray," one of the mothers who had stayed to supervise - Gavin's if the accent was anything to go by - chimed up, looking at the group with a look of motherly concern on her face. Gavin blushed in embarrassment and Michael was suddenly glad that his mother didn't care enough to stay. "You won't have any fun sitting around here with us oldies."

Gavin looked down at the table, biting his lip in concentration, before he looked up and gave Ray a shy nod. He then braced his arms on either side of him and rolled himself away from the table.

Irrationally, Michael thought that the fact that Gavin was in a wheelchair was one of the reasons why he found it so difficult to interact with him; he didn't know where to look when he talked - he didn't want to seem like an arrogant asshole who spoke down to him - and he didn't want to unintentionally be insensitive and suggest they do something that Gavin couldn't do.

He immediately noticed the wide berth and pitying looks sent their - sent _Gavin's_ - way as they made their way over to the shooting game and Michael felt anger stir within him. He thrust one of the brightly coloured game guns into Gavin's hands, without looking at him, when they arrived and pulled out his bag of change.

"Huh, don't you want to play?" Gavin asked in surprise, fumbling with the gun as Michael inserted some coins into the slot and threw the other gun to Ray.

"You can go first," Michael replied, hitting the flashing buttons and joining the two players into a game. The loading screen flashed on the screen. "Just don't suck."

The game started out well, with a generic cutscene with annoying two-dimensional characters that set the scene of some post-apocalyptic world, and soon descended into the typical madness of the players shooting madly at anything and everything. Ray, unsurprisingly, was playing well whilst Gavin…

"Reload."

"C'mon Gavin! We're nearly there! Don't die now!"

"Reload."

"Gavin!"

"I'm sorry Ray, I ca-"

"Reload."

"Gavin reload dammit!"

"I _can't_!"

"Game Over."

"Ga_vin!_" Michael seethed, smacking the console in anger. "I said don't suck! Why didn't you reload?!"

Gavin looked down at the gun in his lap. "I couldn't reload."

"How could you not reload?! It's easy!" Michael missed the deer-in-the-headlights look Ray shot him and plowed on. "All you have to do is press on…" He froze, one foot raised to press on the metallic pedal located on the floor at the base of the console. "…the…pedal."

The silence between them that followed was nothing short of awkward, and Michael found himself staring at the top of Gavin's head - the boy still staring at his lap - with a mortified look on his face as the sounds of other games and kids having fun filtered through around him. He swallowed harshly and dug into his pocket for his change bag. He set his foot next to Gavin's reload pedal and put more coins into the slot.

"We're gonna do this again," he said, smacking the two flashing buttons again and pushing the gun that Gavin tried to hand to him back. "You're going to do the shooting, I'll reload and Ray will carry both of us through the game like the video game nerd that he is." Gavin stared at him. "Don't look at me! Look at the screen dumbass!"

Gavin's expression was slack for a moment before he grinned and his eyes darted back to the screen. Ray's smile was small as he focused his attention back on the game and Michael readied himself to help. Gavin, it turned out, was fairly decent at the game. His aim was atrocious though (Michael was pretty sure that he was better) but his ability to find the hidden packs in the game was commendable. Overall he was nowhere near as good as Ray, of course, and true to Michael's prediction the birthday boy was the sole reason why Gavin and Michael's character managed to last it through the levels they played; but Gavin's amusing comments - the most Michael had ever heard him speak - frequently made Ray and him laugh.

"Did y'see that guy?! We kicked his arse!" Gavin exclaimed giddily, 'Game Over' flashing on the screen before them. Ray replaced his gun back into the holder and did the same for Gavin's, grinning as he looked around.

"We sure did!" He replied, sharing a smile with Michael. Michael snorted and pulled his change bag out of his pocket as Gavin rolled his chair away from the game. "What do you wanna play next?"

"I think I saw this giant Connect Four game near the entrance, we can win tickets from it to-"

"Guys!" One of the boys from their class appeared beside them, buzzing with excitement. "Are you guys up for a game of lazer tag?! No one's there at the moment and Ray's mom says if we're quick enough we can play before another group comes along!"

Michael saw Gavin's face fall, the openness he'd seen in him during their game rapidly disappearing to be replaced by a look of resigned sadness. He slowly moved his chair so it was facing the tables where the parents were still sat. "I guess I'll just stay with the Mum's then…"

Michael growled and crouched down in front of Gavin's wheelchair. He could feel both Gavin and Ray's eyes staring into the back of his head.

"Er, Michael. What are you doing?"

"Get on."

"Huh?"

Michael turned his head to the side, able to see Gavin in his peripheral vision, and repeated. "Get on. D'you wanna play lazer tag or not?"

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Gavin's blindingly happy grin and, with Ray's help, he clambered onto Michael's back; his useless legs secure under the shorter boy's arms and his own arms loosely wrapped around his neck. Michael got to his feet, readjusted Gavin's surprisingly light weight, and straightened up. He turned slightly in Ray's direction.

"Last one to lazer tag has to send Mr. Ramsey a love letter and sign it with their name!"

"Micha-"

Michael didn't wait for Ray's surprised reply and sped off in the opposite direction, Gavin giggling madly in his ears.


End file.
